


Playing Back

by tuesdaymidnight



Series: Clint and Bucky Screw Their Way Through The Gay Kama Sutra [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Broken Bucky Barnes, Broken Clint Barton, Healing Sex, Kama Sutra, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sex Positions, clint is flexible, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky acquires a copy of The Gay Kama Sutra and suggests a new position to Clint. How could Clint refuse a suggestion like that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Back

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be porny crack!fic, but it turned out less porny and less cracky than I intended. 
> 
> This takes place somewhere in that vague future space where Bucky has been recovered and is sort of an Avenger but not really. Since we don't know much about movie!Clint, I've borrowed somewhat from Matt Fraction's version of Hawkeye.
> 
> Huge thank you to [OnTheTurningAway](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ontheturningaway) for the beta job. <3

“You want to do what?”

“It’s called the ‘playing back’ position.”

Clint nearly choked on his beer. He set the bottle down on the coffee table to avoid further incidents.

“And you want me to do what exactly?”

“It’d be easier if I showed you. Hold on.”

Bucky disappeared into the front of the apartment, where he had dropped the duffle bag he’d had with him on the mission he’d just gotten back from. It gave Clint a chance to regroup. When he invited Bucky over, he assumed they’d end up having sex. It was something that happened pretty much every time they were left alone together, but it wasn’t something they _talked_ about or planned. Bucky suggesting a position was totally off the script of beer, pizza, TV, sex. Clint wasn’t opposed to kinking things up, but he could have used a little warning. This meant Bucky was thinking about him, or thinking about sex with him, when he wasn’t around.

“Amazon recommended this book to me.” Bucky’s voice broke Clint’s thoughts as he tossed him said book.

“ _The Gay Kama Sutra_? What were you looking at on Amazon that it recommended _The Gay Kama Sutra_ to you?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Bucky huffed, crossing his arms.

Clint put his hands up in surrender, then started flipping through the book. It was a whole bunch of pictures of dudes fucking. He didn’t know what else he was expecting.

“And you want to do which one of these?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from Clint.

Uh oh, Clint knew that gesture. That was the “I’m uncomfortable around human beings now and I’m feeling super awkward” gesture. Why he attached himself to Clint, who was the king of making people feel super awkward with his lack of social skills, he had no idea.

“Because,” he tried for casual. “You know I’m pretty flexible.”

He stole a glance at Bucky, who swallowed hard.

“I know.”

“And you’re pretty strong.”

Bucky nodded. Then he lifted up his eyes and his gaze bore into Clint’s and Clint was gone. He surged up and grabbed the back of Bucky’s neck, pulling the startled man down on top of him on the couch. Clint would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he loved having Bucky’s solid weight on top of him. If he had to pick a favorite sex position out of the 147, or whatever, in Bucky’s book, it would be straight-up missionary position, with his legs wrapped around Bucky and Bucky’s strong arms—one flesh and one metal—caging around his head.

Only on rare occasions, after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, did Clint acknowledge that being trapped under the weight of the world’s most notorious assassin made him feel inexplicably safe.

Bucky kissed like the ship was going down. There was nothing delicate or soft between them. Clint didn’t know if it was because Bucky always felt like he was living on borrowed time, but the desperation in the way Bucky kissed made it that much hotter to Clint. It made Clint push back that much more, which probably—okay, definitely—meant that Clint was kind of fucked up that he got off on the idea that they could both be dead the next day.

But if Bucky wanted to fuck his way through a book of sex positions, then Clint was all for that, too. Bucky rarely had opinions, or rarely shared them anyway. If it would be therapeutic for him to fuck Clint six ways to Sunday in the process of discovering his new sense of self-identity, well, Clint would be a dick to say no. He had to fuck Bucky—for healing. Maybe he could sell it to Cap that way anyway. He wasn’t sure Captain America knew that his former, maybe current, best friend didn’t come over to Clint’s place just because Clint had cable and he’d gotten Bucky hooked on Dog Cops.

Bucky pressed down against him and Clint could feel Bucky’s dick hard and hot rubbing against his thigh. Fuck, he had a nice dick.

He felt Bucky smile against his lips.

“Aw, did I say that out loud?” Clint asked with a groan.

Bucky didn’t answer. Instead he pulled back abruptly and started peeling off his clothes.

Clint was on board with this turn of events. The first few times they fucked, Bucky had kept his shirt on, kept his arm away from Clint, but he’d gotten over that particular hurdle after that one time Bucky almost got set on fire during a mission in South America. Clint had ripped the shirt off him because Bucky had been doused in accelerant, and not because he was unspeakably attractive with soot smudged on his face and dripping with sweat. Not that at all.

“We don’t have to do—“ Bucky started.

“I want to,” Clint interrupted. “It wouldn’t be in that book if it didn’t feel good, right?”

Bucky studied his face in that way that Clint sometimes found unnerving. Bucky could read people better than Nat could. Clint had once made the mistake of inviting both of them to the monthly Avengers' poker night. Luckily Bruce had smashed the table after Bucky won his fifth hand in a row, which everyone agreed rendered the game a draw.

“Might be easier on the bed. More space,” Bucky said.

That’s when Clint realized that Bucky hadn’t just bought the book because yay sex positions, but because he had thought about acting out the sex positions with Clint.

Clint’s stomach flipped, and all he could do was nod and follow as Bucky led him into his own bedroom.

Clint had never bothered with a real bed, settling for a cheap futon that was low to the ground. He usually passed out on the couch anyway.

Bucky sat down on the edge, pushing a pile of clothes off onto the floor, while Clint kicked off his sweatpants. Clint climbed onto Bucky’s lap and kissed him hard and fast before moving onto other parts of Bucky’s body.

Bucky had sensitive nipples. As soon as Clint had figured it out, he used it to his advantage. Sometimes he would find ways to brush against Bucky’s chest casually in public. Bucky usually just glared at Clint, but Clint suspected it was mostly because Nat always caught them.

But now that he had free reign, he went to town, licking and biting around both nipples in turn until Bucky wrapped his hand around Clint’s cock in an obvious effort to distract him.

Clint chuckled, which drew a glare from Bucky.  

But then Clint thrust forward, so their cocks were close enough that he could hold both of them together in his hand, and started stroking them both at once.

Bucky gasped. Had they not done this before? Surely they had, but then, in spite of Clint’s unspoken preference for it, they didn’t often face each other during sex. Clint thought it was because Bucky was still sort of not sure about the whole gay sex thing, but maybe it wasn’t that at all.

Clint kept jerking them off while Bucky leaned back a little, thrusting his hips ever-so-slightly in a rhythm that matched Clint’s pace. Bucky did have a nice cock. Clint had never had any complaints about his own piece, but Bucky Barnes had a porn cock, and Clint was pretty sure he knew it.

Clint was biting his lip, lest he let more dick compliments spill out, when he realized Bucky’s eyes were closed.

“Hey,” Clint said. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied opening his eyes. “Yeah I’m good.”

Then Bucky brought his hand—his metal hand—up to the back of Clint’s neck and kissed him again. His tongue was insistent and sloppy as he leaned back to grope around with his other arm.

“Think it’s on the floor,” Clint offered, gripping onto Bucky’s shoulders as Bucky leaned over to find the discarded bottle of lube where it had been tossed aside last time.

Clint snatched the bottle out of Bucky’s hand once he retrieved it and had his finger coated in it before Bucky could fully react. He reached around and pushed his lubed finger into his ass.

“Was gonna do that,” Bucky said.

“You take too long,” Clint said, which was true. Bucky discovering the variety of lubes, not to mention dildos and sex toys, available on the 21st century, not-in-a-cryo-chamber-anymore market had been like watching a kid discover candy.

While Clint definitely appreciated a man who wanted to appreciate his ass with a tongue and a bottle of cherry-flavored lube, he’d had enough foreplay.

Clint rose up on his knees and then sunk down on Bucky’s cock in one movement. Bucky let out a quiet groan when Clint was fully seated.

Bucky was never very vocal during sex. He was never very vocal ever. Sometimes Clint would ask Cap about what Bucky was like before the war, to try to pick apart the differences between who he had been and who he was now. Clint got off on dirty talk, but he’d so far been unsuccessful at getting James Buchanan Barnes to play along.

He gripped Bucky’s shoulders, digging his fingernails into the right and grasping the left at the spot where metal met skin. Bucky wasn’t particularly sensitive there, because of all the scar tissue, but Clint liked that spot just the same.

Clint could have stayed like that. Riding Bucky’s cock with an easy roll of his hips until they both came apart, but that wasn’t what Bucky wanted. And the more Clint thought about it, the more he got off on the idea of giving Bucky something he really wanted.

So he leaned back. The move forced his hips to push forward, his ass pressing down on Bucky’s thick thighs.  

Bucky’s breath hitched again, it was the third noise he’d made, making it the most vocal sex they’d ever had. And that included the time Bucky fucked Clint up against the wall of Stark’s lab after they saw the team off for a mission, which was probably the best sex Clint had ever had—and he’d been fucked on a trampoline.

Clint had been grounded because of a stupid broken collarbone, and Bucky had been grounded on account of no one but Steve trusting him to go to Russia without flipping his shit.

He fucked Clint to within an inch of his life instead, holding him up against the wall and driving into him so hard that Clint damn near blacked out. The Avengers got stuck in a freak blizzard somewhere on the slopes of the Sayan Mountains. Clint was pretty sure he won that round.

Clint was determined to get more sounds out of Bucky. He could work up to dirty talk later.

Clint arched his back even further, throwing his head back spotting the ground and putting his hands on the floor in a backbend. The impact of his hands on the ground gave him enough balance so he could drive down even more on Bucky’s cock.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky whispered.

“You like that?” Clint asked, his voice low enough that Bucky could pretend not to hear it if he didn’t want to.

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered back, pushing his hips up, driving into even deeper into Clint, making Clint let out a low curse in return.

Clint inched his feet even further apart, trying to open himself as much as he could. Whoever the fuck the Gay Kama Sutra guy was, he knew what he was doing because Clint felt more spread open, more exposed, than he’d felt maybe ever. It wasn’t comfortable exactly, but the way he was angled meant that every single thrust of Bucky’s brutal pace was rubbing against his prostate.

Bucky’s breath was coming out in hard, staccato pants. The metal arm creaked as he braced his weight on it, and Clint pretended that sound didn’t make him hot. He pretended he didn’t jerk himself off thinking about having those metal fingers stretching him open. He hadn’t been able to broach the subject before, but if Bucky was into trying new things, maybe Clint could find the balls to ask. They made metal butt plugs after all; it couldn’t be _that_ different.  

Blood was starting to rush to Clint’s head, and he was pretty sure the rest of the blood in his body was in his cock, so all his other extremities were tingling.

Then Bucky whimpered, and all of a sudden Clint _needed_ to see his face. He lowered his head and rolled onto his upper back, the way Nat always did when she was coming down from bridge pose doing yoga. Bucky didn’t stutter at the movement, didn’t lose his pace. He adjusted for the balance instinctively, and Clint let himself marvel for a second at how powerful the man currently balls deep in him was. Clint had always been into powerful men.

Bucky was staring down at Clint, or more accurately staring down at Clint’s dick, which was so hard against his belly it looked downright angry.

When Bucky finally looked further down and met Clint’s eye, Clint knew they were thinking the same thing, wondering if Clint could come from just this, from Bucky driving hard and fast against his prostate without a hand touching Clint’s cock. Bucky brought his right arm around Clint’s thigh to hold him place and did one more thing Clint thought was impossible. He went even faster, filling Clint’s bedroom with the hard sound of skin slapping against skin, filling Clint’s ass over and over again with his cock.

It should have been awkward as fuck. Clint was pretty sure it _looked_ awkward as fuck the way he was open and exposed and raw, but the only thing he could feel was heat building in his groin as his body teetered on the edge.

But then one of Bucky’s pants turned into a broken groan that sounded a lot like the name “Clint,” and Clint came apart.

His whole body shook as he came hard, come spurting onto his chest and hitting his chin all while Bucky was still drilling against his prostate, milking every single shivering pulse out of Clint’s body.

He was still trembling from the aftershocks when he felt Bucky’s rhythm start to stutter.

“Come on, Buck,” he said gruffly.

And then with one more hard thrust, Bucky’s grip around Clint’s leg tightened and Clint could feel Bucky pulsing inside, his breath choked off with a grunt.

“Fuck,” Clint whispered as Bucky finally stilled, still holding him up. “Fuck that was something else.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed. “Yeah, I—“

And then seeming to find action easier than word, he grabbed onto Clint’s arm and pulled him up, letting his cock slip out of Clint’s ass. Clint was still straddling Bucky while he seemed to come down, pushing his forehead against Clint’s chest.

This part was still awkward for both of them, but Clint found that humor was always easier. Keeping things light might have been a defense mechanism, but with two people as fucked up as him and Bucky, sometimes that was the best they could do.

“So how many positions are in that book?” he asked.

Bucky straightened his posture and looked up at Clint with a smirk.

Sometimes he didn’t need to say anything at all.  

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://http://tuesdaymidnight.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/tuesdaymidnight) so we can cry about Sebastian Stan together.


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